


A tango with ice

by Glittergalaxy_Senpai



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Melkor can dance omfg, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glittergalaxy_Senpai/pseuds/Glittergalaxy_Senpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Shall we dance, Mairon?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A tango with ice

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Танго со льдом](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/178440) by Каролин / Caroline. 



> ^Originally written in Russian by the wonderful Caroline. Therefore, this translation should not be posted on any other website. Please. Pretty please with glitter and flowers. 3:  
> Being not a native English speaker myself, I would be very happy if you would leave a comment regarding my translation skills. It is probably my second translation attempt and I'm really self-conscious about it...
> 
> About the constantly changing Mairon/Sauron (or Melkor/Morgoth) thing... The majority of the Russian fandom uses more than one name (luckily for us, every second Silm character has more than one name) to makes the text less boring (variate it???) and avoid repeating their names or "he/she" or "the Maia/Vala/Elf/Dwarf/Human" - apparently, in the Russian language it is viewed as a less esthetic thing. I hope it will not ruin the translation though. 3:
> 
> Enjoy~

A huge, empty hall was lightened by thousands of candles, their golden glares gliding smoothly over the dark, gloomy walls. A draft blew through the corridors behind the massive wooden door. Somewhere out there, far and beyond the fortress of Angband, laid layers upon layers of almost blindingly white, ever-lasting snow. Here, however, was nothing but darkness and only in this hall and during those certain minutes, was light. 

Melkor measured the distance from one wall to another with smooth steps, constantly whispering something to himself. His waist-long dark hair gleamed slightly in the dim light. He was without his crown; in fact, it’s weight depressed him. And although Melkor wore his crown proudly, he did not let any of his servants to see how the cold iron pressed on his temples and how the Silmarils bothered his sleep. 

This sleepless night is one of those in which the lord’s eyes could not close. Now, or so it seemed, he silently drew patterns on the floor, dancing with his own shadow. 

The fortress residents fell asleep one by one, knowing not of their lord who was still awake during such late hour. And yet there was another one whose sleep was troubled; and as he and Melkor were connected to each other, bounded with invisible strings, he felt every of his master’s restless thought and couldn’t close his eyes whenever Melkor went out of his chambers in search of a peaceful place. Interestingly enough, Morgoth usually found it far from where he was looking for. 

Steeping under his bed covers one моrе time, Mairon quickly drew himself up into a sitting position. He hissed something clearly not in his lord’s favour, then stood up, pulled back the blankets, put a thin mantel over his nightgown and went to the hall. With no doubts, Melkor must have been there.

“Insomnia, again?”

Melkor trembled, - yet not noticeably enough to draw his servant's attention, - when heard the soft, quiet voice, still unaware of the Maia’s presence. 

A simple “Mairon” was all he could say. Melkor did not want any of his servants to know the reason for him wandering around his own fortress. 

“My lord?”

A quiet sigh echoed through the hall. Melkor turned over to Sauron and stepped closer. The servant stood still, knowing that all his master could do now is simply send him back to sleep. But Morgoth did none of it, not a saying a word even when he stood right in front of Mairon. They both were so silent that one could only hear their heavy breath and the slow clatter of water drops on a marble out there. 

Melkor gazed on the slightly lightened by the candle’s light silhouette. Suddenly, he smiled stupidly and to his mind came an idea just as stupid. Mairon, on the other hand, couldn’t understand the reason for those sudden changes and felt like he should’ve stayed in bed.

“Sauron.” 

His own name sounded a striking of a blade. 

“Yes, master?” His voice wavered so treacherously; something about all of this just did not seem right to him.

“Do you know how to dance?”

Mairon shattered and bounced away from Melkor wildly. 

“P-Pardon me?” He found himself now praying to Eru that he had misheard this question.

“Do you know how to dance?” Melkor repeated patiently. 

“No, I… No, I don’t…” Sauron stuttered and ran his eyes all over the hall in search for an escape. 

Melkor laughed quietly, interrupting his servant with a simple hand gesture.

“Ah, Mairon. If only you could see you facial expression.” 

“I’m terribly sorry, master, but I... I do not understand what your question was for…”

Morgoth shook his head and got even closer to Sauron. Taking him by the hand, he pulled his servant to the middle of the hall.

“Shall I teach you how to dance, Mairon?” 

Mairon’s blood froze in his veins, his heart skipped a beat. “He must be joking! Has he gone mad?!” was all that ran trough his mind at that moment.

“Ah, Mairon, your hand lays on the handle, always ready to take your sword out of the sheath. You are a skilful warrior and I had and will never doubt your courage and loyalty … But once I spoke of dancing…” 

Saurom blushed. He never thought of dancing, especially not with his Master. But one strong hand grabbed him around the waist, the other still not letting go of his own hand – there was no choice but obeying this odd order. 

“My, how stressed you are,” Melkor whispered, his warm breath touched slightly Mairon’s skin, and shiver ran through his body. “After all, I am not leading you to your death,” he added in light mockery. 

“Believe me, my lord, death would be better.”

Melkor laughed again.

“And you would follow me?” 

“You know my answer, I…”

Melkor stepped forward and Sauron barely kept up.

“Then go. It was the first step.”

“What...”

He was lead back.

“Second one.”

“My lord…”

“And the third one.”

They stopped, but only for a moment.

“See, Mairon, it is much easier than using a sword.”

Sauron took a deep breath and made the first conscious step back, his eyes closed. Suddenly Melkor, with a quick hand movement, pulled him closer and glared at him. Sauron straightened and turned his head, unable to look into those eyes. It, however, only amused Morgoth. 

“Now it you turn. Braver, Mairon.”

Sauron took a deep breath once again and made a small step forward. Then another, and another one, until Melkor stretched his hand forth, forcing Mairon to stop, pulled him down and leaned forward. Mairon’s golden eyes widened in surprise and fright.

Melkor was holding him with one hand, as if he weighted like nothing at all. 

“I never noticed how bright your eyes were shining. “

Mairon threw back his head, exposing his thin neck. Melkor pulled him closer once again and so they froze, standing in the middle of the hall. 

With one simple hand gesture Mairons thin, silver mantel fell on the floor, exposing white, almost snow-like skin on his narrow shoulders. He looked down. Melkor leaned his head down, his lips pressed slightly on the servant’s neck. 

Sauron tilted his head, allowing such forbidden yet very desired caresses. Forgetting himself, he carefully placed a hand on Melkor's shoulder. His warm palm slid up to neck, then on the cheek, burring itself in velvet strands of pitch-black hair. 

Suddenly, the kisses have stopped. Frightened and slowly realizing he allowed himself too much, Mairon quickly pulled his hand away. And when he looked up to Melkor eyes he met the same cold glance. His master was looking down at him, still not letting go.

"Forgive me, my lord. I've forgotten my place."


End file.
